


In Which Two Thieves Are Awesome

by Archangel_Beth, fadeverb



Series: Leo [27]
Category: In Nomine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/Archangel_Beth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/pseuds/fadeverb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you're a lowly gremlin in Tartarus, the last thing you want to do is fledge as the forbidden Band of Calabite. So if you feel you're going to, and you need help, who're you gonna call?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which The Plan Is Criticized

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadeverb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeverb/gifts).



_This is the worst plan ever,_ I think, carefully scrubbing down the test-tubes. My wings flutter, too pathetically small to lift me up against even the weak gravity in this lab, and I have to be wary of the drop as well as my own tiny hooves. Too small to stand on the floor, too big not to knock things over if I'm not careful. Knock things over, ha. I want to throw down vials and test-tubes and burners, and whatever the blessed crystal apparatus on the corner is. I want to yank the cords out of the things that need power, and shove them into things that would catch fire and burn, or explode, if they _got_ power. I want to turn this place upside down and laugh and laugh when the Balseraph in charge sees what I've done.

Gremlins in Tartarus have to control those sorts of urges. It's the sort of thing Habbalah beat into you. Tell you how great the Genius Prince is, how great it is to be an angel, and how if you dare fledge into the _Broken_ Band, you'll be used for experiments on the edge of the Principality. If that doesn't work, they'll carve the horns, peel the wings, rip your soul out and give it back full of Habbiemuck...

And thinking things like that is why I agreed to the Worst Plan Ever.

It helps me keep from going berserk, at least. _Wait for the signal,_ I can repeat. _Be still. Just **think** about how you could wreck everything. Wait for the signal._

The timer on an experiment keeps ticking down. And my thoughts keep coming back to: _This is the worst plan ever._

But if I were still able to lie to myself -- and I used to be really good at it, so good I got taken to meet the Genius Prince and he patted me on the head and gave me another Force, _and_ suddenly I could understand my Bal handler's spec sheets and diagrams... If I were still able to lie to myself, I wouldn't be wanting to scream and kick all these delicate, fragile things off the table. I'd be telling myself everything was fine, and great, and I'd love being a Balseraph when I fledged, and then no one'd be pushing me around anymore, no one'd be pawing at my Forces when they were bored, no one'd be holding scalpels under my chin and cooing that no one'd notice if they took something from the lab...

Vapulans are supposed to blow things up all the time, and it's not fair what they'd do to me if they knew I wanted to do it with my mind instead of some pretty tech thing that'll take my own hand off without qualm.

I've gotten back around to _be still_ when the first alarms go off. I thought it was just someone's lab-siren, at first, but the shouting... And then the intercoms come on, and it was from the top of the Tether: the Seneschal's voice, all weird and distorted from being in a human mouth, shouting for backup, that it was an attack on the lab, explosions, probably Animals come to free the experiments.

 _"You won't be able to miss it, kid."_ That's what the human'd said, washing his hands, and grinned in the restroom mirror like he could see my reflection hovering behind him.

And if this really was an attack, I could always run back down the Tether.

(Besides, if I stayed much longer... I could feel a new Force trying to wrap itself around me. Might be better to go out chewing on an angel.)

So I grab up one of the scalpels I was absolutely _not_ supposed to touch, jump off the table, and run out the door with everyone else, keeping to the edges so I won't get trampled.

The Tether room is filling with people, damned and more demonlings, imps and gremlins like me, all dragging the anti-Heaven equipment into place. If we couldn't stop even one angel from Helldiving, _no one'd_ better be trying to come back here without the Seneschal calling a stand-down first. Blown to bits...

 _It's not fair,_ I think. And then, _Worst. Plan. Ever._

But it's the only one I have. So I grab my weapon, try to look like I want to impress someone, and run up into the glowing portal to the corporeal.

Corporeal is full of smoke and shouting, everyone in vessels choking and dropping to the floor or grabbing for gas masks. The Seneschal, teary-eyed behind the gas mask its host wears, is spraying a fire extinguisher all around the lab.

Me, I'm clutching my scalpel and buzzing my wings as fast as they'll go, trying to make sense of the place when I'm heading through walls and there's smoke everywhere, and fire some places...

More explosions rock the Symphony, but I've burst free from the wall, and the hissing caress of the Tether isn't around me anymore. The meeting place is across the street, and if there are angels around, I can't see them. Thank Lucifer.

Hiding in a dumpster is... well, it's kind of disgusting, and kind of useless. I'm six Forces of gremlin, nearly seven Forces of Calabite, and _dear Lucifer, don't let me fledge right here and now, I don't have a vessel yet no no no no no I'd have to go back to the Tether, they'd kill me, they'd kill me, they'd kill me **slow** \--_

"Hey, kid," a voice says. I look up, waving my scalpel... right through someone's vessel, without a mark. The someone says, "Easy, easy, kid. I think we're your ride."

I clutch the scalpel to me, nearly slicing my own ear with the sharp end. "You're here," I croak. "You're really here."

"Yup!" chirps the person. I think the vessel is... female? Maybe. It looks like an Impudite with no horns or wings, and only one little ring through an ear, but... The person says to someone outside the dumpster, "Hey, pass up the bag. Thanks."

I float up a little, trying to stay out of arm's reach. "Bag?"

"Yeah." She heaves up a heavy sack, a big bundle in her arms, but no more than that. "Hop in, kid."

I drift over carefully and put my hand through the bag, and can tell it's a relic. Just as I'm asking, "What's it do?" though, it sucks me in.


	2. In Which There Is A Small Hitch In The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not dig your claws into the Calabite's lap when she's already upset about traffic.

I'm wrapped up in something, surrounded by darkness, and freeze in terror. If I'm wrapped up, then I'm going to be experimented on, and-and-and-and... My hands flex, but they don't feel right... I can't feel my wings, I can't feel my horns, there's something at the base of my spine... It's too much, and I wail and start kicking, shoving and hitting at the thing that surrounds me.

"Hey," says a familiar voice, "calm down, okay?"

There's a noise -- a zipper, that is -- and the darkness gets a little less dark. "Easy, easy, let's see what we've got here."

Hands reach in and fumble around, pulling me out of the entangling bag. Lights strobe past, through windows in the odd little room that the other two are sitting in. It's the... the female, I think, with the silver earring catching glints from the moving lights. She sets me on her lap. "Well, who's a good kitty, then?"

"Wow?" I say. Then, because that totally didn't come out right, "Yow!" My mouth is _all_ wrong, and... and this is the last straw. "Yow! Wow! Arrouhw rhoaw rauw rauw whaaarh whar _wha isss yoin' oooonnnnn?!_ "

"Shut it up," the other person says. He's sitting on my right -- the female's left -- and holding onto a round handle thing that comes out of the counter in front of them. He's looking out the front window in this little room.

"Yeah, better calm down," the female says. "He doesn't drive so well at the bes--" She grabs onto the belt that's keeping her strapped to her seat, as the world rocks. "Yeah, that. First vessel, eh, kid?"

"Vewwor?" I lift up a hand and discover it's something that belongs on a Djinn, like some kind of furry mitten. The other one is no better, though at least they match. There's a tail on my butt, and instead of hooves, it's more paws. And no wings. "Awwwwwwww, fuussst," I say, and nearly impale my own tongue on the wicked-sharp fangs I've got now. Which at least means I could bite other people when I'm not damaging myself, so maybe there's a silver lining here.

Whatever the bless silver linings are. The Impudites like to talk about them when the experiments aren't going well, but they can pin the blame on someone they don't like.

The female settles me against her and rubs my ears. "Hey, could be worse. Could be stuck in a baby vessel, looking like a tiny human."

"Yow." I sigh. After a while, very carefully, I ask, "Whewr we yoin'?"

"If you're the gremlin we're supposed to pick up, a Tether. Name the Word?"

"Fefft." And I really, really, really hope these are the right people. Not more Vapulans, scoring a research subject they'll never need to account for. Not the Game, angry that I want to switch Princes. Not... not I don't even _know_ who, but they probably wouldn't want to give me even this Bad Plan.

"Good kitty," the other one says, voice deeper. Male vessel, I decide, and won't I feel stupid if I've gotten the cues all wrong and they're both male, or both female, or I mixed up the genders. Stupid vessels. Stupid humans, being all confusing.

"Nah," I say and settle down in the female's lap. The lights pass on above, and after a while, I realize _we're_ the ones moving, not the lights. The corporeal is weird.

After a longer while, I am bored. _"No names,"_ the human had warned, and that's fine. I don't need names for these two, and I don't have any name I like for myself, either, just what that blessed Balseraph'd been calling me. But how'm I supposed to start a conversation without asking a name?

Then again... "Wha' Ban's?" I manage, in this dangerous mouth. Not much of a topic in Tartarus, if you've got eyes, but here on the corporeal? Could work.

"Partner?" the female asks. The male grunts. She gives me a smile, lit briefly, that's as sharp as my fangs. "He's a Djinn."

" _Not_ attuned to the cat," the Djinn says.

"'Course not," the female says.

"You?" I ask, and that's a word that comes out just fine.

"Oh, well, never mind tha-- _Watch it!_ " she yelps, grabbing for the round handle, and the room sways and swerves, and there's an alarm blaring deep and urgent from somewhere outside, and I grab onto what's below me, which is the female's pants and legs, and for a moment I feel my nails piercing through the fabric and skin.

Then there's a crunching noise, and something's wrong with the round handle, and the Symphony screeches along with the side of the room. The gravity moves around, flinging me towards the front of the room, and I wail, holding on tight.

Swearing in human, the female grabs me up by my neck and rips my grip away. I see curved claws in my paws now. _Oops._

"Just _what_ did you think you were doing, you little idiot!?" she shouts in my face as I pull in my arms and legs and tail, trying to hang small so I'm a harder target to hit.

"Just throw it out," the Djinn suggests.

" _Orders,_ " she snaps at him, temporarily diverted from me. "And what was playing chicken with a _semi_ about?"

Mildly, the Djinn says, "It was in my lane." After meeting the female's gaze with his own, he adds, "No, really. My lane. The one on the right side of the double-yellow line."

" _Damn_ stupid monkeys falling asleep behind the wheel," the female mutters, and lowers me. "Fine. Can we get this thing moving?"

The Djinn reaches up and turns on a light in the room. It's not too bright, but it shows that the round handle that was connected to the front counter... is mostly not there anymore. "No. Can't hotwire this one when half the wires are gone."

The female glares at me again, looking at me like she'd like to break every one of my brand-new bones. And because the Force the Genius Prince gave me was an Ethereal one, I can add up the numbers. "You're... a Des'royer," I breathe in wonder.

"If you spout off _one thing_ about Des--" she starts, but I'm reaching out with my paws, waving them as close to her face as I can, with the claws all kept in their switchblade cases.

"I finally ca' see you!" I wail in awe, and don't care that I've bitten my tongue again. "A real Cala-- Callla-- Des'royer!"

"Uh. Yeah. Uh, you all right?" She puts me down in her lap again, on my back.

I tuck my hands up to my chest and drink in her expression. "Uh-huh."

The Djinn says, "This is all very touching, but we need a new car."

"And a bit less disturbance," the Calabite -- Calabite! a real Calabite! -- mutters.

"No one's going to pick up hitchhikers at this time of night anyway."

"Fine, time to walk till we find a parking lot." The Calabite (a _real_ Calabite!) looks at the window next to her and... it vanishes, just a pop of air and shards of glass raining down. I close my eyes just in time and hold my breath till she picks me up again, stuffs me under one arm, and climbs out the window.

The corporeal is still... weird. There's no ceiling. There aren't enough walls here, either. Having to breathe is weird. Having air moving... that's new, and it messes up my black fur. How do Djinn stand having all that fur?

There's some kind of metal fence beside the... the _car_ , I can tell, now that I can see the outside. The Calabite (real! Calabite!) walks along that little metal fence, then jumps down to the road in front of the car. She sets me down and I try to stand up. It doesn't work well. My hind paws aren't any worse than the hooves for surface area, but the tail doesn't balance worth a bless, and there's something wrong with my spine.

"Four legs, cat," the Djinn says.

I look at him, appalled. I can feel my ears twisting back. "You wan' me tth' wal' on mah _han's_?"

He gives me a look, scuffing the ground with one foot like he's planning on seeing how far he can kick me with no walls around. I've seen _that_ plenty of times, and even in this weird vessel, I can nip around and hide behind the Calabite's ankles.

She sighs and picks me up. "No more clawing the fuck out of my vessel, got that?"

"Uh-huh!" I agree quickly. Of course the surprise had made her blow something up. _I'd_ blow something up if I could, and someone stabbed _my_ legs. 

"Good." She tucks me into the crook of her arm, so I can put my hands on her shoulder and look around, and we start walking.


	3. In Which A New Car Presents Itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking gets boring.

Some hours later, all the weird stuff about the corporeal has gotten less new and interesting, and the pair of fledged demons are arguing about movies that I've never heard of. I've been tucked under the arm of the Calabite (... _real Calabite!_ At least _that's_ not getting old...), and shifted to her other shoulder, and back again, and finally figure out how to ride on her shoulders, with my hind legs dangling off either side of one of her shoulders, and my hands carefully clinging to the other.

This vessel has thumbs, though they're masquerading as extra claws. If I'm very, very cautious, I can hold up one hand and practice with the claws while I ride.

Claws are all well and good, but they are nothing compared to taking apart an entire _steering wheel_ and much of the column.

So when a pause in the argument comes, and we've been walking in silence for a while, I say, "I wanna be li' _you_ when I fleff. Flefghf. Grow!" This mouth is still not working right.

She gives me a sharp look out of the corner of her eye, and I look back adoringly. She says, "...weren't you coming up from a Vapulan Tether?"

"Uh-huh!" I nod for extra emphasis.

"And you want to fledge... Calabite?"

"UH-HUH!" I nod harder, and have to catch myself so I don't fall off, my claws snagging in her shirt but not breaking the skin.

The Djinn says, "Hate to break up the hero worship, partner, but we still need a car." He points. "There is a car."

And there is a car there, by the side of this highway. The Calabite (eeee!) gives it a look, then gives her partner a look. "You can't get into it?"

He puts his hands in his pockets and sneers like a particularly uppity Impudite. "You're the one with the groupie."

"Fine, fine. It's probably out of gas anyway." So we go over to the car, with me peering against her cheek to see what marvelous thing she might do, and... she tries the handle. It's unlocked. She slides in and checks the steering wheel and column. "No keys."

The Djinn gets in the other side. "So?"

"So this will take a minute. Here, hold kitty." She unwinds me from her shoulders and passes me over to the Djinn, who dangles me in midair for a while. Not that I mind, since I get to _watch_.

Her fingers move like Perfectly Proportioned Gears, peeling open the steering column just right. She pulls at wires, twists wires, yanks on things a little... and then the engine is purring like the sound in my throat and she straightens up, slamming the door shut and locking it. There's enough light to see she's got that fang-sharp grin as she pulls on the seat-strap. "Buckle up, everyone. The Calabite's driving."

The Djinn ignores this, so I climb onto the little pad between the seats where I can dig all my claws in. (It's so satisfying to feel the textured surface pop a little as I stick my claws into it!) The Calabite moves the levers and presses the gas pedal, and we're accelerating into the darkness.

She glances in the rear-view mirror. "Huh. Someone was out walking their dog, I guess."

The Djinn snorts, but it sounds amused. He settles back in the chair. "No hitchhikers."


	4. In Which There Is A Stowaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed cars sometimes have stuff in them.

The Calabite is the one who puts fuel into the tank. I cling to her shoulders -- I am seriously getting good at this -- and rattle off what people can do with pumps. (Since knowing What Mechanical Things Do is the gift of the Genius Prince to Balseraphs... and gremlins who are totally going to fledge Balseraphs, sometimes. Totally. Really. Except when they're not. And it has felt _so good_ to climb all over the car's seatbacks and put claw-holes in them, and _no one cares_ if it's destructive.)

"Now, see, that's not a bad trick," she says.

"Is nah makin' fings blow u' _wiff my min'_ ," I whisper back. I'd started asking questions now and then, and I will make this mouth work... someday.

"Yeah, okay, that part's great," she says -- and I could swoon, to hear it from a _real Calabite's_ mouth. "But don't be a one-trick kitty. Keep something in reserve, that people won't expect. You can't always blow _people_ up with your mind, you know."

"I can'ph?" One of these days I will stop stabbing my tongue when I try to make a "t" sound.

"Nope. Sometimes they shove off the resonance." She watches the numbers change on the gas pump's terminal. "Then you have to shove it somewhere else. I don't advise yourself. Or eating the dissonance. But..." She waves a hand around. "Look around. Look at how things fit together, at all the _different pieces of things_ there are to tear apart. Clothes, say. Shoes. People can't chase you as well if you blow up one of their shoes and not the other."

"You hav'a run away?" I asked sadly.

"Sometimes. It's one of those things. See, sometimes people come in packs -- angels especially. Sure, you can take one, maybe two if you're clever and the terrain's good, and you've got a plan, but more than that? There's blowing things up with your mind, and there's being stupid."

"Ohhhhhh." I chew on that one while she hangs up the pump again and closes the gas-tank's cap.

"Plus," she adds as she heads back for the driver's chair, "angels tend to be bigger than you. So you _need_ a plan. Running away can be a great plan! Blow up their stuff, and get the hell out of there. And then people get surprised if you turn and fight, which can help, too."

"Ohhhh!" And that's... that's _clever_. I'd always heard that the "Broken" Band was full of madness and destruction -- and wanted, _needed_ it anyway, needed some way to _just trash everything_. Deep down, I'd _accepted_ that my brand new Ethereal Force, that made it so hard to lie to myself anymore, was going to go down the insanity drain.

This vessel makes that rumbly happy-machine sound when I'm happy. I can blow things up with my mind _and_ have a mind!

Something bangs in the car's back end. The Calabite stops, and starts edging away from it. I remember what she just said, and start thinking of What To Blow Up. (And it's almost dizzying, to realize there's the _tires_ and the _real light_ and the _hubcap_ and just generally the _car itself_ and all the things around the _gas station_ , and they're all _things I could blow up_. If I could blow up anything yet, that is.)

The Djinn has gotten out of the car too, now, since he comes around the side. The bang happens again, and he slams a fist down on the rear end. There is... a yelp from inside.

"Two for one?" the Calabite says. She goes and knocks on the back end. "Knock, knock. Who's in the trunk?"

From the... oh, right, the _trunk_! There's a _storage compartment_ in car rears. From the trunk comes a voice: "No body important. Are the angels gone?"

Djinn and Calabite exchange Looks over the top of the trunk. It is amazing, that they each have someone to exchange a Look with; I've never had anyone who I could Look at, and they'd Look back, and we'd both agree that things were going in a bad way and we were very irritated about it. The Djinn looks back down and says, "Yeah. What're you?"

"Junk in the trunk!" the voice says back, and giggles. "Stunk in the trunk!"

"You mean stuck?" the Djinn says.

"Not if I stay here much loooooooonger!" the voice retorts.

The Calabite looks around, muttering, "Car? Car? Dammit, no car but this car." She sighs, exchanges another Meaningful Look with her Djinn, and goes to the front of the car, turning on the compartment light and poking around till she finds a button that opens the trunk.

When we get back, the Djinn has his hands shoved in his pockets, and is not helping the... person... get out of the trunk.

The person is probably male, and dressed in black bottoms, a white shirt, and a black coat. There is a lot of dirt on him, and he smells bad. He reaches in and pulls out a funny hat, kind of tall, which is the worse for wear. "Judgment doesn't appreciate a good hat," he says, and dusts it off.

The Calabite slams the trunk back down again. "Yeah, I've noticed that," she says, all bland and calm and... and there are all _kinds_ of things I could blow up on this new person. I think happily of all the ways I could destroy his clothes, too, with my sharp teeth and claws.

The new person puts his hat on, takes a step back, and then takes his hat off again to bow. "Thanks for the rescue. Call me Pepe. My real name never sounds right in the corporeal anyway."

"Leah," says the Calabite. She aims a thumb to me. "Kitty." She points to the Djinn. "John."

"Hi," says the Djinn, who looks almost like _he's_ trying to figure out what to blow up on this guy first.

Maybe I like him okay after all.

"Shotgun!" says Pepe, and starts heading around to the side.

"What makes you think you're hitching a ride?" says the Calabite, whose name is probably not Leah, since they said "no names" earlier.

Pepe beams. "You don't want disturbance, and I've only got a few more hours in this body before it falls over, of course!"

"We could leave you behind." (I suppose I can think of her as "Leah" for lack of any better name.) Her Djinn backs her up with a quiet _mm-hmm_.

"But then I'd tell the angels about you! So sad, so sad." Pepe puts out his lower lip.

The Djinn says, "Don't need a Samingan Shedite. Get lost."

"Nope!" The... Shedite? ...gives everyone a toothless grin. "Get me a ride to a graveyard in the next few hours. Not the store clerk here. Too obvious. The Dominicans'll be on that one faster than a hen on a junebug. Besides, I like dead humans, not live ones."

Leah goes just a little more still, beneath me, and the Shedite's coat is whisping away to threads and fuzz, drifting down. "We can force the issue," she says.

The Samingan pauses, then carefully dusts itself off. "That was a good coat," it complains. "Yes, you can try to destroy this body, too. You might succeed before the triad gets here. You might not! Won't it be fun to find out?"

The Djinn (John the Djinn? That's kind of funny in human-speak!) says, "Might be."

"The doggie's an Ofanite," the Shedite says. "Faster than you think."

"Get in the damn car," Leah snaps, turning and heading for the driver's chair again. " _Back_ seat."

John the Djinn gets into the back as well, which makes sense, because otherwise it would just be me watching the Shedite and their backs to it, and I'm little. And they don't know me very well yet.

But that means the other front chair -- front seat? -- is all mine now! So I jump onto it and climb up the back to peer over the headrest at Pepe. He has to put his hat in his lap. I could totally jump onto that hat and kick it to _shreds_. But he might be fast enough to grab me and break the vessel, and then I'd be in Limbo and not a Theft Tether.

I have a lot of patience.

With a few re-twistings of wires, the car is purring again, and we swing back onto the road. It may be my imagination, but something howls in the distance, and the fur goes up on my back and tail.

I suppose it would be hard to resonate an Ofanite without resonating... the _whole_ Ofanite. Especially if it's in a dog's vessel. I've heard a lot about Ofanim and how they get through the wires of things. That could be bad, in a car, made out of so much metal?

But we are faster than an Ofanite, if we're not distracted by stupid Samingan Shedim. So I watch, and I await my chance to get back at this thing later, for making my Calabite annoyed.


	5. In Which There Is A Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stowaways with their own agenda are a nuisance.

"Are we there yet?"

I am going to kill this Shedite. I really am.

"No," says Leah, patiently, again. I don't know how she doesn't stop this car and shove the Shedite out. The Djinn, I can understand, but she's so _patient_.

"Now?"

"No."

"How about now?"

"No."

Fifteen minutes, by the timer on the car's front counter, and the Shedite asks, "Are we there yet?"

"No." It's the same intonation, entirely serene.

I have to take out my annoyance somehow, and this used to be an angel's car, so I've been clawing the seat. It's pretty soothing, stretching out my vessel's spine and dragging my claws down the fabric. I'd never be able to do anything like this back in Tartarus, not without the Habbalah coming and asking if I... needed to Punish things.

"How about now?"

"No."

"Can't you say anything else?" the Shedite snaps, finally.

With the exact same tone, Leah says, "No."

"You people are _so boring_! I thought Theft was all about excitement!"

"No," Leah says, and I have to stuff a paw in my mouth to keep from laughing.

"Now you're just being annoying."

"No."

The Djinn does snicker, then. "She's good at that."

The Shedite picks at his ear, pulling off bits and dropping them on the seat. I don't know if he can see the Djinn slanting his eyes at the debris or not.

"Dun' thha hur'?" I ask. Because if it doesn't, I need to reassess what I'm going to do to get back at this thing.

Pepe shrugs. "Nah, it was peeling off anyway. That's the thing about dead humans -- they just go all to pieces after a few days. Hey, you fledged yet? Bet you could go the _right_ way!"

"Kitty prefers horns, not ooze," Leah says. "And certainly not dead bodies."

The stink of this one, in the enclosed car, had been bad enough that Leah'd rolled down the windows a little. Noisy -- which was hard on my ears for some reason -- but not so smelly. "Yecchhh!" I agree.

"You people are _no_ fun."

John the Djinn says, "You can ride in the trunk again."

"Oh, please, no," Pepe sneers. "That's even more boring. Give me _some_ credit here."

I try to say "stupid," but it's got too many of the letters that nail my tongue on my teeth. I finally find a good alternative: "Fffoolisssh! An-julss ha' you!"

"And I successfully convinced them that there were two of me -- well, that I had a friend -- so they were traipsing around in the woods, looking for a Soldier, or another body, or who knows what! And them with a Seraph! Too rich." Pepe laughs. "I would've gotten out of the trunk eventually, even without your terribly convenient rescue!"

I move over to drag my claws along the side of the driver's seat, and hear Leah muttering, "...never let him pick the car again." I suppose this is the Djinn's fault, at that, though passing the angels in the night might've been a little tricky. We might've been mistaken for this Shedite's imaginary friend.

"Are we there yet?"

"No." Leah slides the car from the straight-ahead road, slowing to move onto another one that splits off of it, and relents slightly to say, "Kitty, can you get into the glove compartment and see if there's a map, so we can ditch Stinky in a graveyard somewhere?"

From what I understood of this Terrible Plan that is much less terrible than I'd thought -- Thieves are _so_ smart; I should never have underestimated them! -- we were going to go straight to a Tether and I'd go into Stygia, and no one'd have a clue to look for me there till after I'd fledged. Detours weren't mentioned.

On the other hand, the Shedite wasn't intentional, and maybe Theft doesn't want Death knowing where its Tether is. So I get to figure out where the glove compartment is and how to get my mitten-hands into the lever-handle that opens it. There's a little light inside, so I can rummage through the thing, my feet braced on the seat and my elbows on the lip of the glove-compartment door.

There's an instruction manual for the car, which I wish I'd known about sooner, some things with registration names -- this was a rented car? can't angels get their own cars? -- and then... "Maf!" I say, which isn't the right word but my lips do not like the letter "p" at the end of a word. 

"Great! Start looking at each of the squares and see if any of them are marked 'graveyard.'"

It occurs to me that this might not be the right map for whatever city we're in, but I don't want to sound like it's my first time on the corporeal, even though it _is_ , and Leah seemed pretty sure this would be the right map. So I fight with the thing, put some holes in it with my claws, _don't_ rip it into shreds or even rectangular pieces, and methodically scan every square. There's got to be a better way to do this. Maybe I could rip it in half and give half to the Djinn? But then he couldn't make sure that stupid Shedite wasn't doing something... stupid.

Well, it falls to me to get this Shedite where it wants to go so we can get where _I_ want to go. So I carefully squint at every marked square until... "Ffoun' one!" I say, slightly amazed.

"Great! Gimme the map." My Calabite holds out her hand, and I wrestle the blessed paper over to her and pat the appropriate square with my paw. She does some glancing, then lays it on the seat next to me. "Okay, we're on that road there," she says, tapping it. "Figure out the path, name the streets, I'll tell you when I've turned on one. Got it?"

"Yahw!" I am so pleased with my job. Nothing like messing with unimportant test tubes. This is _real_. I name the next street we have to take, then sit with my hands on the map and my tail curled up against my side.

From above me, Pepe says, "Oh, isn't it just the _cutest_ thing!" He's looking over the back of the seat at me.

My ears go back, entirely without my thinking about it. "Nno," I say, trying to sound just like Leah, even though she has a mouth advantage.

Pepe laughs. "Too darling! Oh, come here, you adorable thing." He starts reaching down and I raise a hand and flash my claws. He isn't stopping, though -- till the Djinn moves and Pepe's face is gone from above the headrest, while the Djinn says, "Put your seatbelt on."

"How rude!" Pepe sulks from where he was yanked backwards. I don't hear him putting his seatbelt on, either.

"Leave my navigator alone," Leah says, and it's enough to make me start purring again.

Purring messes up my speaking almost as much as fangs do. I have to work really hard to give the street names. But finally I've calmed down, put a dozen teeny holes in the paper of the map on the parts where we've been (because we won't need those parts anymore, right?), and we're on the last stretch.

There are huge angel-statues on posts to either side of the concrete-covered path that Leah drives the car onto. I leave the map and put my hands up on the car's front counter, looking out at... Stone statues, stone slabs, stone vases. Trees. Flower-pots. Occasionally, a light on a tall pole. This place is _weird_ , and beyond anything I've ever seen before. It's too orderly to be a junk-yard, and too useless to be anything else.

Leah drives in a little, reverses the car on a cross-path, and says, "Okay, all Shedim will please exit the car in an orderly fashion."

I stand on the arm-rest between the front seats, and Pepe waggles his fingers at me like I might want to come over to his smelly self. He makes a pout, picks his lower lip off, and opens the door to get out.

The Djinn twists around, faster than Djinn usually move, and uses both feet to _shove_ Pepe out the door, so he lands sprawling on the ground outside. "Go!" he says, and my Calabite makes the car jump forwards, fast as anything.

My claws are totally in the wrong position to hang on, so I land in the Djinn's lap, laughing my head off as we zoom away from the shouting Shedite and towards the exit-gates. It's _perfect_.

Then Leah yells, " _Holy fuck!_ " and there's a giant black THING like a Djinn's true form on the front of the car, slavering in the front window.

I shriek again and dive for the footspace behind the rear seats and the front ones, and the car rocks back and forth as Leah tries to fling the THING off. I grab the back of the front seat with my claws and wedge my face into the space between seat and door, and see when the THING gets illuminated from behind.

Leah screams something, her hands moving as she makes the car slam to a stop. The Thing somehow clings on, though it flattens out, its hind legs sliding down with horrible shrill noises on the car's front. Then Leah's sent the car going backwards -- but the Thing jumps up and to the side, and there's a jolt and horrible crunching from the front and even I can hear the Symphony screaming from the damage.

"Everybody out!" Leah shouts, and I don't know if she opens the car door or resonates it out of her way, but she's diving out, and John-the-Djinn is diving the other way, and I'm left in the car which is _still going backwards_ , which seems likely to be very bad, but the back door swung kind-of shut after the Djinn left it, so no exit _there_ unless I want to go celestial.

Or fledge right now. It would be wonderful to blast a hole for myself, and _bless_ this stupid Ethereal Force for making me think of this stuff instead of _getting out_.

I'm clawing my way up the back of the driver's seat, heading for that door that _isn't_ swinging closed on me, when the car stops moving. There's a deep barking sound, like _stupid_ Djinn sometimes make, and yelling, and I should maybe stay _right here_...

No, I might get left behind. I should slide out of the car and _hide under it_ , because I am tiny. And then I should watch for where we are running to, and follow along. Easy. No one's looking at me when I get out and under the car, and all I can see from here are feet moving around, people darting around the waist-high standing stones in this graveyard, and...

And someone just turned on a flame-sword, and that's my Calabite yelping out a curse.

No one messes with my Calabite, not without getting messed up themselves. I may not have a resonance yet, but I have legs that take me out from under the car like a shot, even if I've barely got a Corporeal Force to my name. And I have big enough eyes that I can see where someone has trapped _my_ Calabite against one of the really big stone rectangles. And I have hands and claws and can climb right up to that one's butt and _dig in_ with all my claws and fangs besides. And while I'm doing that, and the enemy is swinging around trying to hit what's biting him, Leah drops under the wild swings of that blazing sword and suddenly my grip isn't gripping so well because the person's pants are sliding down its legs.

And Leah is _running_ so I figure I'd better run, too, and thank Lucifer that four legs are faster than two. She dives behind another of the big stone monuments, with a giant plus sign on it, and I follow. "Ya' arri'?" I try to whisper, which is hard.

She's gripping her shirt, which is burned away, and the skin beneath doesn't look good at all. "Damn thing's on fire," she mutters. "Damn fiery swords. Why can't they have a gun like--" She shuts herself up and we listen.

There's still shouting and barking, and someone's yelling about Samingans, but for the moment, it doesn't seem like the fire-sword pantsless person is following us yet. Leah hisses, "Dammit, they're following the Shedite..."

"Soo'i' she'aye Sammin's!" I hiss, which doesn't come out well at all.

"Yeah. This is mostly his fault. They knew he'd want a new body soon. _Damn_ it."

I carefully stick my head around the side of the big stone monument we're hiding behind. Pantsless Flamesword is off somewhere else, closing in on... That looks like John-the-Djinn, not the Shedite. Another person is already there, with a glowing knife in its hand -- ducking a thrown pot of flowers. I don't see the furred Thing that'd been on the car. "Fhey're af'er your 'inn," I report.

She hisses something that sounds really bad, in Helltongue. "All right. I... I need to find that damn Shedite. But I _can't be hit_ by those damn swords. I need a diversion. Ideally, one that winds up with us in their car again, if it still works. Their new car, that is."

"Zjinn's a 'fersion," I point out.

"...yeah, he is. Okay, I'm going to find that Shedite. You... keep an eye out. Help Z-- help out the Djinn. If he needs it."

"Yah!" I stick my head out again, see no one near, and streak closer to the fight. Destroyers are _brave_ (not stupid, though; I don't have to be stupid!), and I'm not going to let down my Calabite.

The Djinn isn't a slouch at fighting, at least. He's able to dodge around, keep the two attackers almost bumping into each other, so only one of them can go after him at a time -- and have to watch out for each other, at that. 

Still, it'll be good practice to make sure they can't gang up on Leah's Djinn. I sneak behind the stone slabs, slinking from one to another like a shadow -- mostly because I have the fur, and not because I'm very good at sneaking -- and when I get closer, I reach out and grab for ankles! It's easy to pick out Pantsless Flamesword's ankles, because they are only socks.

The first time I smack Pantsless' ankles, he just stumbles and doesn't seem to notice.

The second time, he swings around with that flaming sword, and I cringe into the shadow of the stone slab I'm behind.

The third time, I get unlucky. I reach out, grab Glowknife's ankle, and my claws get stuck in its pants-fabric. So when it yanks its leg around, I get dragged along, yowling because it hurts my fingers to be pulled by them!

"What the _Hell_?" yells the one whose pants I am stuck on. "Theron!"

From farther away, the Barking Thing barks again, and this time it resolves to words: "Busy!"

"Dammit," mutters Pantsless. He readies his sword, while I'm digging my feet into the ground and trying to yank my hand free.

Then John-the-Djinn is slamming into him, grabbing his wrist! There's a cracking sound, and he cries out. Glowknife moves in, stabbing, with me still attached to its leg. The Djinn grunts, but when everyone separates, I manage to get my feet on Glowknife's ankle and _rip_ my claws out of that blessed fabric -- and Pantsless doesn't have the flaming sword anymore. The Djinn does, and if one of his arms is held tight against his chest, he's still better armed than he was, and grinning almost like Leah can.

No one can _really_ do that grin as well as a Calabite, of course.

Now that John-the-Djinn has a weapon with some range, he's on the offensive. And I can still dodge around the stone slabs, and get behind people, and spring out and try to climb their legs. So long as I don't try to climb the Djinn's legs, of course.

The one with the broken wrist doesn't seem to pay much attention to it, but John-the-Djinn isn't paying much attention to what Glowknife did, either. They must have good vessels. We dodge around, with people slashing, or trying to hit, and it's not as bad as it could be because they're focusing on _him_ and not _me_ \-- but I really wish I could crouch farther away and just _think_ at them and their weapons.

But I can't, can't stop to even try, and Pantsless is coming up behind the Djinn as he heads for Glowknife, so I have to jump and grab onto the shorts Pantsless was wearing under those pants, and drag _those_ around his ankles so he trips over them and lands on one hand, and it's the _broken_ one, so he can't catch himself and then he's nose-down on the grass. I jump up onto his back and start clawing like he was a seat-cushion, calling him all kinds of things that I can't actually say, so it comes out "Sooi anshel uffin yow rouw fissin ffftch!"

I'm jumping back as a hand comes at me, and thinking I'll go down his leg next, but then there's a bunch of yelling and barking off where Leah was, and before I can think, I'm racing towards that.

There are these tall... things. I don't know if they're trees or bushes, but one of them is shaking and thrashing, and Leah's calling someone all _kinds_ of things, and there's that Barking Thing at the base, quietly slavering.

As I get closer, I pick out Leah yelling, "It's _you_ they want, you idiot! They were staking out a graveyard to catch _you_ and I _hate_! All! These! Interruptions! This was a _simple_ job and _you_ are ruining it, so _get down there and fix it!_ "

Meanwhile, Pepe is shouting back, mostly in Helltongue, about how Leah's a stupid she-Djinn whore and he'll tell everyone she threw him to Judgment, tell everyone she's working for the HeavenGame, probably licks off cloaks all the time, and a bunch of other things that sound like people fighting over resources for experiments back in Tartarus.

But then he's just yelling, and _falling_ , and the Barking Thing dodges as he hits the ground. He comes up fast, scary-fast, raising his fists -- but the Barking Angel is faster, grabbing one of his arms in its jaws and thrashing itself around so Pepe's off-balance and staggering around.

I'm worried about Leah, so I streak around, sticking to cover, till I can start climbing up the treebushthing and make sure that my Calabite is all right. I mean, I'm sure she's _all right_ , but it's bad enough that these angels are all ganging up on us (though not as much as if it were just, well, me and three of them) -- but Pepe's not helping? That makes it four to three, and that's _not right_. So I need to find out if my Calabite's been scraped up or something.

Climbing this thing isn't as easy as climbing a seat-back, and I can't see if Pepe or the Barking Angel is winning, because of all the branches. But I can get up enough to find Leah trying to shift around and get _down_ carefully. "Ya arri'!" I say, relieved.

"Yeah, I'm fine, kid. How's Z--John?"

"They hur' his arm bu' he go' th' flameswor' an' bro'e tha' one's wris', I fink!" I report, only biting my tongue a little.

"You're lighter than me -- see if you can get back and keep them busy while I get to the cars."

"Yah!" And while it's hard to go _down_ , the way my claws curl, I'm light enough to drop onto branches and have them break my fall without breaking my vessel.

Pepe and the Barking Angel are still fighting; it's gotten one of his hands off, and there's some disturbance floating around, but he's kicked it in the ribs and is bashing it against the standing stones, so I think it's an even match. Not that I'm going to help either one of them. I'm going to run off and help keep those other two from killing my Calabite's Djinn.

He's still doing about the same. His arm versus the half-naked one's wrist, glowing knife versus flaming sword. But they're starting to figure out how to stay apart from each other and make it so if John-the-Djinn slashes for one, the other can come after him.

That makes it more dangerous for me to race in and try for the dangling bits that the half-naked one has, but I can sure fake it, jumping up from behind a stone slab with my hands out. He jumps, swinging his hand past the dangly bits as he grabs for where he thought I was going to be -- and the Djinn slams his shoulder into him, blocking the glowing knife with the sword a moment later.

In Helltongue, the Djinn says, "The car! Check for keys!"

Well, Leah hasn't gotten to the car yet, so I race off to do that, panting with all the exertion. I am not entirely sure what the keys will look like, but I climb into the door that the angels left open, and there's the steering wheel, and the steering column, and there are things dangling from it that weren't in the one where Leah had to take the column's panel off, so maybe those are keys. My mind is buzzing with all this danger. But back out of the car, back to John-the-Djinn, who's put a nasty, burn-edged cut across the chest of Half-Naked and is pressing Glowknife hard now.

In Helltongue, I call, "Yah! Fin'sso! Kheeeys! Chaaarrrr!"

"Good." He raises his voice, still in Helltongue. "Partner!"

Leah's voice comes back. " _On_ it, dammit!"

"Good!" He lunges at Glowknife, then spins and swings his whole body around -- and Half-Naked's head goes off.

For a Djinn, John is pretty impressive.

Still, he has to spin back fast, and Glowknife gashes his other arm before he can kick that angel away.

Now it's two to one -- even if I am little -- and I work on getting underfoot enough to be a problem for the angel without getting tromped on and broken.

And, _bless_ it, that's my Calabite swearing again. I wheel around, and-- the Symphony hadn't been _too_ noisy yet, but now it's crashing again and another person appears, and it's got a regular sword this time, and I shriek, "Loo'owwww!" as it slashes for the Djinn's head.

He's already ducking, thank Lucifer, and growling some curse of his own about _blackwings_.

...I was clawing up a Malakite? I would fall over if I had time to think about that.

But John-the-Djinn is ducking and rolling and keeping them away from him for the moment, and Leah's not happy, so I go bounding back in that direction...

She's at the cars, she's got the second one's door open, with her hands sunk into the top of the door and the window-glass gone, and she's trying to kick away Pepe, who has his remaining hand locked around her ankle. He doesn't have his other arm anymore, and one of his feet is gone. The remaining hand doesn't look all that sturdy either, because the flesh has been yanked away and there are... are _bones_ showing there now.

Leah is kicking and kicking at him, and shouting -- in human -- that he's a horrible excuse for a demon and she wants nothing to do with him and Judgment can _have_ him for all she cares. And he certainly has caused us a lot of trouble, making angels chase us and making us have to go out of our way. And he smells.

I want to jump on Pepe and claw at him, but I saw how he was handling the Barking Angel, and I don't think I could do a thing to him except maybe scratch a few more bits off and get a nasty taste in my mouth.

I jump up onto the top of the first car, and look over my shoulder. The Djinn is holding his own, but I don't think he can get over here fast.

This isn't fair. This Shedite has messed up the rescue that turned out to be such a clever plan. I want to do something. I want to do something to _him_ , because he's a demon and we rescued him and he should have been helping us. The angels are just being rabid angels like Habbalah always are; they can't help themselves. But Pepe...

Pepe could have helped. And he just got in the way of my rescue.

The angels can have him. Leah's saying so.

All the fur is standing out on my body. I can feel the _weight_ of everything pressing on me, feel the Force that's been hovering around me, feel everything spinning and whirling and.

 it.

  can.

   just.

     **STOP.**

I am filled with the rage, my Forces binding together into a perfect seal around the turmoil for an endless moment, until they screech with my anger, shifting apart, a gash that will let all this _out_.

Those are bones showing there, in Pepe's wrist. Those are. individual. bones. I can't do much damage to _him_ yet. But that's. just. a. piece. And I've studied in Tartarus. I know how things are put together already, with little bits of _atoms_ held together by not much at all.

I pour Essence into the effort, all I've got, and scream as the roiling entropy burns past me and into the _bone_ that connects Pepe's hand with Pepe's arm.

It shatters, the Symphony screaming with me.

And time starts again, with the Barking Angel dragging Pepe back by the leg and jumping on top of him. Leah gets to her feet and flings herself into the car, yelling Helltongue of: "Partner! _Leaving now!_."

Pepe is a Shedite. Pepe drops out of the body, a cloud of horrible, drippy, disgusting rot that I can see despite being in a vessel. It laughs with all its mouths, skull-bones and hands gripping gangrene tongues, and I want to scream and blow it up MORE.

But the Barking Angel has vanished, turning into something that spins like a gear made of fire. The other two angels vanish, too, and one is a shadow blacker than my fur, while the other is something like my vessel, but bigger and whiter and with feathered wings.

None of them like Pepe.

That makes six of us.

John-the-Djinn gets himself into the passenger seat, and Leah makes the car go backwards, arcing around, jolting everyone when she hits a stone slab, and then we're grinding out through the graveyard gates while the angels and the Shedite fight behind us.

When it becomes clear that the car, though pretty banged up, will still work, Leah says, "I wonder if they were letting the dog drive."


	6. Epilogue: In Which Everyone Present Is Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's the cutest little Calabite, hmmm?

We ditch the damaged car by the side of a road in some neighborhood full of sleeping humans and cut through back yards till we find another car that Leah likes. It's all sleek, red, and only has two seats. I stand on the Djinn's knees and put my hands on the _dashboard_ , watching the sky get brighter as we go along, and purring fit to drown out the car.

The Tether is a bar that claims it used to be a speakeasy, whatever the bless that is. Something with enough ties to stolen goods that the Prince can plonk a Seneschal in without it dissolving into a puddle of Discord.

The very thought of Discord makes me giggle now. It's not bad planning, it's not losing stuff, it's not screwing up. It's _how I blow things up with my mind_. I'm a little containment unit full of _pure destruction_ , and there's the valve that lets it out. I can feel it. It's just as wonderful as I'd ever hoped.

I will need to hang onto my temper a lot harder than before (unless the Prince changes what the Discord is; they can do things like that, right?), and it's going to make Essence harder for me to get, but hey, someday I can have my very own gremlin to hand me Essence. And maybe I'll get a partner who'll share, because it will help me blow stuff up better.

And I'll never be stuck in one lab -- or worse, one cage in a lab -- ever again.

We get sent into a back room immediately, which is probably a good idea because John-the-Djinn is dripping a little, and my Calabite is kind of burned on the front. There are chairs, and I can figure out how to get a wet paper towel to press on Leah's burns and maybe cool things off a little. She watches this like no one's ever tried that before, and I suppose it's one of the down-sides of having a Djinn as backup. They probably don't think of these things, even if they are pretty good to have around when you need to fight something.

After a few hours, someone in a skinny, tall vessel comes in, sneers around, heals people with a Song, and leaves again, still sneering. That is a really useful Song. I want that one. Right after I get a gremlin of my own, maybe, because it does take Essence.

Then, for the next few hours, John-the-Djinn and my Calabite argue about movies that I haven't seen. I read about cars, since I took the car manual from the red one. All the diagrams make sense _and_ I can think about where car pieces are that would mess things up with just one careful application of _boom_. This is dizzyingly delightful. And I can scratch up the carpet whenever I want. This vessel has some drawbacks, like _talking_ , but I think I'm getting used to them.

Sometime around noon -- I think it's noon, anyway, because that's what the 12 means on a clock, right? And it hasn't stopped yet... Sometime around noon, I pad over, put my hands on Leah's knee, and ask, "Wha' haffens naow?"

"Some point, someone shows up to take charge of you, kid," Leah says, rubbing my ears so I close my eyes and purr. I'm getting a static electricity charge from this, and it's like mini-entropy, frizzing the very tips of my whiskers in a tickly way.

"Can I s'ay wif you, af'er?"

"MmmmmmiiiiI don't think that'd be a good idea, kitty-kid. You need someone a little... less likely to get into trouble."

"Awwwww." But I suppose two people hauling around a black cat would be on the angels' hit-list for a while, so that makes sense. "I never fo'ghe' you, 'eah." Still can't hit the "tongue-near-the-stabby-teeth" letters reliably.

"You're gonna be a great little Calabite, kid," she says.

"You're..." I try to think of a word that won't pierce my tongue. "Awesome!"

The Djinn clears his throat, probably to make some I'm-left-out comment, but the door opens.

Leah and her Djinn stand up so they can bow. I now know that I can't possibly manage that, so I just stand on all four legs and put my nose and tail down.

If Leah's entropy field frizzes the tips of my whiskers, I can feel this one ruffling my fur from nose to tail. The carpet in front of me frays, the fibers visibly untwisting. I shake, but it's only half fear. The rest is pure excitement.

"So," says a voice like-and-nothing-like the Genius Prince's. Bright and sharp, like glass knives and metal-dust. "This is our new recruit, eh? Looks like it fledged along the way."

"Yes, Boss," Leah says.

Hands in fingerless leather gloves reach down, pick me up, and hold me up in the air, all my limbs dangling, and now I'm looking down at... a taller version of Leah, in a lot of ways. Her hair's all streaks of blue and pink, short-shaved on one side and longer on the other, and her ears, nose, and lips are studded with diamonds. She's wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and tough boots with metal toes, and all I can say is, "Ohhhh, wooooow!" And even that's fogged up with my purring.

"And aren't _you_ the happiest little angry cat I've seen in a while." Her smile is brilliant, lips parted to show just a little tooth, and her eyes crinkled up.

"Uh-huh!" I nod and purr. I should probably be adding a "dread prince" to that, but my mouth just can't say that without spitting, and even if that weren't stupid, it would just be... _wrong_.

She brings me down into her arms, tickling my belly. "So, you want to work for me?"

"Yah! Fferever!" I don't have to worry that I'm lying to myself, or that she's done something to my emotions -- I knew it by the time I rode into this place on the Djinn's shoulders, that I wanted to be a Thief.

She grins at me, pulling the fur on my chest so it hurts a little. "You sure?"

I put both my hands on her fist. "Fferever."

And that's what having a Heart feels like. I can almost see it between her fingers as she pulls her fist away, and lost fur doesn't matter one bit. "Yeaaaaaaa!" I purr.

Juggling me so I'm laid across her arm, feet dangling, purring non-stop, the Most Awesome Prince of the Most Awesome Band says, "So, you two get first dibs."

The Djinn says, "Got my hands full already, Boss." And Leah murmurs something else that's lost in my own purring, but sounds smooth and elegant, not arguing with her Djinn.

The Best Prince Ever laughs and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. "Pick up your stuff from the Seneschal," she says. "And tell Mae to come in!"

"Yes, Boss," they say. Leah gives me a little wave as they go out. I wave back and crinkle up my eyes happily. I'll see 'em around, betcha.

"So," the Best Prince asks while we're alone. "Have fun getting catnapped?"

"Uh- _huh_! Was awwwwwsome! Li' you! Awesome! Wonnerful!"

She laughs again, longer this time, and water-glasses break. "Need me to fix your mouth?"

I hunker my head down just a little. "Har' th' say wor's."

She snickers and rubs under my chin, and my vessel rearranges itself. "Better?"

I work on the harder sounds. "Better!" Still nearly stabbing myself on those "T"s, but my lips are working again. "Much be'r, bes' Boss ever! Than' you!"

"Now that's what I like to hear." She turns her head. "Maeve, meet your new apprentice. Just fledged this evening. Calabite."

Maeve is in a female vessel, and wearing a leather top that only comes partway up her chest so you can tell she's female. She's got a smile that's just a little like Leah's and the Prince's. "Thank you, Boss." She holds out her hands and collects me. "And what should I call you, new apprentice?" she asks.

I remember what Leah called me, to that stupid Shedite. And, even though it slices up my tongue, I say, "Kitty!"

After all, I might have a human vessel someday, and I want Leah to recognize me when we meet again.


End file.
